Timmy's Day Out
by Mr. Chump Time
Summary: Timmy Turner is now a college-aged man who spends his free time scrolling the internet and affecting the lives of his friends and family. After some delightful hijinks, an old acquaintance makes an appearance to further enrich his life. Rated M because the author did not want to get kicked off the site.
1. Chapter 1: Clean Up Time

Chapter 1: Clean Up Time

It had been a week since young Timmy Turner had blown his babysitter's head off with a shotgun. Even so, he was still pissed about the results. His two Godparents, Cosmo and Wanda, would not wish the body away for him, so he had to move it and clean up. However, he let it sit, because he was too busy on his rear end, trolling third graders on 4Chan. Soon enough, however, this situation would reach a breaking point. "God damn it Timmy," Wanda finally shouted, "When the fuck are you going to clean up Vickie's body downstairs?!"

"I'll get to it eventually," he replied, not looking away from his computer screen, "It's not like she's going anywhere."

"You said that a fucking week ago. Sooner or later, your folks are going to find out you're a vicious psychopath. You're lucky they haven't noticed yet."

"They don't notice shit. Why the fuck would you two be around if they actually did?"

"Don't fucking swear at me, shit-for-brains!"

Cosmo sat in his fishbowl, the popular disguise, reading up on his Carl Sagan, "You know Timothy," he said, "If you would do some nice gestures for your parents, they might actually notice you."

"Shut the fuck up, asshole," Wanda and Timmy replied. At this point, Wanda morphed into a Grizzly bear, and threw Timmy through the wall and down the stairs. "I guess it's time to do some work," he muttered to himself, only hurt in his pride. He wished for a tub of bleach, rubber gloves, and a giant sponge, so he could finally clean up. Blood and brain matter was splattered everywhere from the blast, with Vickie's body lying in the hallway between the kitchen and the living room. Thinking back, Timmy thought he could have done a better job seeking a location to murder her, due to the fact that he had to clean both rooms.

He started in the living room, where he scrubbed the blood out of the nice shag carpeting. All went well, until he got to the TV; no matter how hard he tried, he could not get the blood out. Worst of all, the bleach solution seeped into the screen, where it shorted out the thing, causing grey smoke to seep out. "Son of a bitch!" Timmy cried, "What the fuck?! Now I wrecked my damn TV."

Right about then, the token black character, AJ, came through the door, "Hey Tim!" He said to his friend, "How's your…weekend…" he paused looking at the destruction, "What the fuck happened here?"

Not noticing him, Timmy picked up the TV and threw it in AJ's direction, "Mother _fuck!_ " he cried. The TV screen broke through on AJ's skull, simultaneously fracturing it and spewing electric discharge into AJ's body. He convulsed for a few minutes and threw him across the room. Only until the TV cord was unplugged mid-throw did it stop electrocuting his dead body. He twitched for a few moments and then finally rested eternally. "Aw, son of a bitch," Timmy complained, " _Another body?!_ "

"You fucking prick," Wanda chided, "Now you went and killed the only black character in this show! What the fuck are we going to do about that?! The ACLU is going to sue the shit out of us."

"Shit, I think you're right," Timmy realized, "I really fucking hope his parents weren't members of the Nation of Islam, or we're completely fucked," Timmy resumed his menial task, finally finishing up the kitchen and disinfecting the rooms with bleach solution. Now came the trial of moving the bodies. Knowing that he was a wanted man upriver for murdering years before, he decided that he shouldn't chuck the bodies in the river. Instead, he would just toss them in a downtown dumpster. "Hell," he told Cosmo and Wanda, "There's dead whores all over the place up there. Two more bodies won't make a difference," He stuffed AJ in a large garbage bag, yet with Vickie, she wouldn't fit. Taking her in the back-yard, he had to saw both her legs off, _then_ stuff those on top of her torso, in the bag. With a heave, he was off in search of a good dumpster. "By the way," he said to his fairies, "Didn't you two have a kid or something?"

"The author of this didn't watch the show that far," Wanda said, "Plus, he didn't want to add that character, the lazy fuck."

Downtown, the three found a perfect alley way to stash the stiffs. "My dear Timothy," Cosmo mused as he pointed to a trash bin, "I believe that dumpster should do the trick."

"Thanks, wise-ass," Timmy replied back. He threw all his might into hoisting Vickie's remains in the trash bin, "I could use a fucking hand here!" he said to the fairies.

"You fucking kidding me?" Wanda shot back, "I'm not gonna help a lousy fuck like you!"

With a sigh, Timmy began to shove AJ into the dumpster. Suddenly, out of the alley darkness appeared Timmy's other friend, Chester. "What's going on Timmy?" he asked jovially, "Tossing your old laundry in the trash like I do?"

"No, asshole. Gimme a hand here, would you?" Timmy muttered and Chester obliged. After they stashed the bodies, Timmy asked, "What the fuck are you doing here on a Monday?"

"Ah, I was just out and about looking for some food. Y'know, some of these restaurants just toss way food for free!"

"You're really that poor?"

"Now that my dad fell off the wagon again. He's been on the junk, and sold everything we owned, you know, like six years ago?"

"Oh yeah, now I remember. That's the reason he got kicked off the Pirates, right?"

"What?"

"You know. The Pittsburgh Pirates Drug Trials? During the 80s? I thought he pitched for them."

"Who?"

"Forget it."

The two began to walk out of the alley when Chester noticed the obvious fairies disguised as pink and green dogs. "Say, Timmy," he nodded, "How long have you had fairy godparents?"

"Oh, for a while now," Timmy replied, lighting up a Camel, "You're the first to notice their terrible disguises. Green and Pink dogs, who the fuck would buy that? This whole city never noticed, what a bunch of idiots." Then he realized, "Aw fuck it, Chester. I gotta kill you too now."

"What?"

"You found out about my fairy godparents," Timmy backed into the alleyway, "Now I've got to kill you."

"Really? That's a fucking stupid rule."

"I know, right? Well, sorry about this, bud."

"Ah, no worries. Just make it quick."

Timmy took aim, when a blinding light flashed above them. "What the fuck was that?" Timmy asked as he looked around. A SCUD missile careened above them, and dropped at an extremely rapid pace. It was bound for their exact location. "I wish for an anti-SCUD missile defense bubble!" Timmy shouted as Cosmo and Wanda obliged.

"Oh sure! Save yourself you miserable fuck!" Chester screamed, "What a no, good, dirty, fucking…" before he could finish his tirade, the missile landed, taking out the entire block with it. The blast sent Timmy in his bubble bounding across the city, bouncing off of buildings as it flew away.

"What the fuck was that for?" Timmy asked as he was through around inside his bubble.

"The author couldn't think of a way to end this shitty chapter," Wanda muttered, "So he's going to try and shove a plot into this shit heap."


	2. Chapter II

Chapter II

"That lousy Turner," a strong and independent womyn muttered while peering into her Soviet-grade binoculars. The strong and independent womyn was none other than Tootie Nolastname, a former fling of Timmy's. She used to be a weak and un-empowered girl that Timmy used to pal around with, most notably before he discovered Reddit, and turned what he dubbed "red pill." Now, Tootie was stronger, and more independent, grew taller, gained some styling duds, and shaved the left side of her head for reasons.

Finally, it was time. Tootie acquired a large-scale SCUD missile from an overly-friendly Iranian salesman, who promised it would "Light up the town like what you call 'Christmas.'" Unfortunately, for Tootie, her vengeance trip would be a waste of another college tuition payment, now that she missed. "What do we do now?" Her co-conspirator asked, manning the controls of the vehicle. Trixie's beauty soon faded after graduation from Dimmsdale High School, after getting pregnant from her longtime-boyfriend and soon-to-be-deadbeat husband. He rightly wound up in Dimmsdale Prison for selling weed to uniformed police officers. The two would meet every month for conjugal visits, helping Trixie work on their second child. Even so, her husband would occasionally call out the name of his cellmate while making love to Trixie.

"We're going in on foot," Tootie pushed her glasses back on her face and walked back to a support truck, "You and Crocker take South 25th Avenue, I'll go up Broadway," She pulled out a Norinco Type 56 Rifle and slammed a full magazine in.

"But remember," A crusty and wrinkled teacher replied, "I want those fairies alive."

"I want you to shut your God-damn whore mouth," Tootie back-sassed as she racked the slide feeding a round in the chamber. Crocker had been her and Timmy's teacher in grade school, he never truly taught, he merely demonstrated then lashed out when students failed to do well. She never learned a thing from Crocker, but he hated Timmy as much as she did, so he did his job, As he grabbed some things out of the support vehicle, Tootie barked, "Take that RPG and…"

"What, this?" Crocker grabbed the rocket with his hands full, causing him to pull the trigger. The rocket careened into the air, off the cliff, and into the nearly-destroyed section of Dimmsdale where the SCUD hit. While the Dimmsdale Elementary evacuated, several children looked up at the rocket flying in the sky towards Crocker's room.

"It's heading towards Crocker's room!" One student replied, as the grenade crashed through the window. The entire building erupted, with thousands of dollars of equipment in flames from all the spiced rum Crocker kept under his desk labeled "emergency use only, _do not touch_." All of his priceless artifacts and technological equipment he used to find fairies, along with his lab rats, were obliterated in a single second. A collective squeak of sadness rang out over the city as rats mourned the loss of their brethren. Crocker, noticing the stench of burnt whiskey in the air, dropped to his knees.

"It was the only thing I had going for me. My mother died three years ago and I can't stop drinking."

"Go to fucking AA," Trixie replied, "Let's get going, right?" she grabbed another Chinese assault rifle from the truck.

"Soon, we'll rid the world of that bastard Turner," Tootie growled, pushing her glasses back up her nose once more.

"So I hate Turner too," Crocker began, standing up, "But why the fuck would you want to launch a SCUD missile at him?"

Turning angrily to face him, Tootie grimaced, "That rotten bastard ruined my life," Flames appeared in her eyes and she shot out laser beams from behind her glasses.

"Holy shit!" Crocker cried as he dodged the blast, which cut through the support vehicle's gas tank, causing it to explode behind them.

"He was the only man ever to make me dependent and weak. Now, I'm a strong and independent womyn…"

"Woman?"

" _Womyn!_ " she fired again as the fire reached a cell tower, knocking it out and wrecking the viewing pleasure of the author as he attempted to drunkenly watch his favorite shounen-ai animes. "I am not a _woman_ with an 'a' in it, that's a symbol of the patriarchy!"

"How could you tell the author would write that?"

" _I could sense it with my internet sense!_ Timmy made me hate humanity because of his bullshit. Thinking he's better than me, with his 'plates' and his 'redpilling' all over fucking Reddit. Just because I wanted women the right to every dollar to men's pay, he calls me a 'feminazi.' Well, now I _am!_ " and the force of her scream cracked Crocker's crooked glasses, "And he's going to pay for all the shit he put me through! _Move out!_ "


	3. Chapter W

Chapter W

After the explosion, Cosmo and Wanda dropped Timmy like a sack of potatoes on the crumbling sidewalk, charred by the missile's deadly payload. Landing on his overweight rear-end, Timmy realized how hungry he was, "God damn," he said, "I could use some Mickey-D's."

"Why don't you wish for a burger or something, you lazy fuck?" Wanda muttered, taking the form of an obvious pink pigeon this time.

"I don't have time for your bullshit, woman. Let's grab some food."

"Timothy," Cosmo interjected, "might I suggest some fruit to help you lose those excess pounds you've gained?"

" _Shaddap!_ " Timmy and Wanda screamed in unison. The three wandered aimlessly around town until the found a convenient burger joint down on 25th aroma of fried goodness tempted Timmy into entry. There, the McDonald's Gang entertained some kids, a rare occurrence in their day and age. Grimace, the lovable purple oaf, came up to Timmy and asked, "Hey there kiddo!"

"Shut the fuck up, fat boy,"

Disgusted, Grimace muttered, "Look who's talking, chubs," then instantly regretted it, "Oh! Did that slip out! I'm sorry!"

With a grimace, Timmy shoved a Mills Bomb in Grimace's ugly purple maw, then kicked him towards the bathroom, causing a minor explosion, but killing the gentle beast in the process. Timmy then punched the Hamburglar, sending him through the McDonald's plate-glass window, knocking him out for a moment. When he came to, he saw the muzzle of Timmy's shotgun pointed directly into his face, "R-robble?" he quietly whispered before Timmy blasted his head clean off his shoulders, spraying the patrons of the McDonalds with blood, brain, and facepaint. One client dipped his fries in the excess blood, stating that it was rich in iron and healthy for a growing body.

"Can't you do anything right?!" Wanda screamed, still in pigeon form, "Now you've murdered two mascots!"

"Only two?" Timmy turned to Wanda while simultaneously blasting Ronald McDonald in the gut next to him.

"Fuck!"

With Ronald's screaming pleas, Timmy casually went up to the counter and asked, "Can I get three quarter-pounders? One for me and two for the obviously disguised birds."

The cashier, paralyzed in fear, simply shuddered in response.

Noticing her looks, Timmy played it cool and attempted the old "Turner Charm," which consisted of him sliding his hair to the side under his small pink trilby and an ugly grin. The acne on Timmy's face did not help his case much, and his tact made him seem as charming as Joseph Goebbels at a Seder dinner. "Oh, my bad manners. I should get my debit card out," He handed her the card, which she eventually rang up, "You seem quite magnificent, my darling, at this retched establishment. Would you care if I took you to a finer eatery?"

The girl dropped his card and , " _O-only as friends!_ "

What little charm Timmy had quickly melted into rage once more, "Are you _friendzoning me?_ "

" _I already have a boyfriend!_ " She dived under the counter, sobbing.

With a snort exaggerated by excess cheek fat, Timmy pulled out his sawed-off Winchester shotgun and pointed it at the top of her head. Soon enough, Wanda intervened, "You fucking idiot! You won't get our food if you murder the staff!"

"You're right," he lowered the gun back underneath his waist. The cashier got another day to live due to Wanda's semi-competence. On his way to the table, he kicked Ronald on the ground in the head, further adding to his agony. After their names were called, the three ate and enjoyed the day. The open window really added to the breeze, and when the smoke from the missile cleared, it was quite nice. Until Dimmsdale Law Enforcement showed up.

"We have the place surrounded, Turner!" One officer screamed into a megaphone, "Give up now, or we're coming in with force."

"Fucking A," Timmy muttered, "I didn't kill the token black kid because he was black, alright? I swear to God it was an accident."

"Wait, you killed someone else?! Well, let the hostages go and we'll work something else out!"

"Nice going, jackass," Wanda replied over her burger.

"God damn it, I just self-incriminated myself."

" _Help us! He's holding us hostage and Ronald McDonald is dying in here!_ " The friendzoner screamed to the police through the open window.

"You friendzoning bitch!" Timmy replied, fries spilling out of his full mouth, "This is why I'm a man-going-my-own-way!"

" _He shot Grimace and the Hamburglar!_ "

"He was gonna burgle my hams!" Timmy pleaded, "I can't believe the author wrote this piece of trash."

"That son of a bitch," The megaphone captain said to his comrades behind their squad cars, "He got Grimace. He was three weeks from retirement!" Pointing to the assault vehicle, "It's no use trying to talk to him, he's got to be taken down. He's a mad dog. SWAT-team! Go!" The fully-armored assault vehicle warmed up and soon drove out to break in through the rear. Timmy, being of unsound mind, barely noticed, merely commenting on how much he hated friendzoning and how women were the single-handed cause for the downfall of society. Suddenly, a loud rumbling came from the back of the building, crashing down the wall and causing a fryer to explode and pour hot, burning fry oil all over the floor. Luckily for the staff, the only one on the floor still was Ronald, who effectively got fried to a crisp, golden brown.

As muzak played over the radio, the SWAT officers stormed the room, spraying bullets across the restaurant. Thankfully, due to Timmy's incompetence as a hostage-taker, all the patrons had since escaped. Except for Birdie the Early Bird, whom was mowed down by the hail of gunfire. Timmy, Cosmo, and Wanda effectively hid behind their booth. "I wish for some help here!" Timmy wished, to which Wanda replied by conjuring a long pink dildo which flopped on Timmy's head and whacked him in the nose. "What the fuck was that for?!"

"You wished for 'some help,'" Wanda replied, "That's to help you fuck yourself."

"God damn it!" Timmy fired a shotgun blast, peppering some SWAT officers with buckshot, "I wish for some firepower! A grenade launcher! Yeah!" With a sigh, Wanda complied and gave him two Milkor MGL's, "Aw fuck yeah! Dual wield!" Timmy shouted with boyish glee and his voice slightly cracking. He cocked them both and jumped from behind the booth, "Hey assholes!" He shouted.

"He's armed!" One officer cried, "Hit the deck!"

Without hesitation and common sense, Timmy emptied the grenade launchers as fast as he could. Thinking that firing a weapon would be as easy as he bragged about his _Call of Duty_ multiplayer skills proved to be Timmy's second mistake. The first couple rounds hit their marks in the team well, but the other ten could be considered less effective. The recoil caused more muzzle flip than he expected, causing some to hit the roof and knock panels and showering electric lights onto the team. Overcompensating, Timmy aimed a bit lower and hit the ground right in front of him, causing bits of asbestos floor tiles to fly into his face. Even more obscured, Timmy shot randomly into the smoke across the building. One did however hit an officer directly, causing his entire body to explode as a playful piñata, only full of soft tissue and organs.

The smoke cleared, and the officers realized that Timmy was gone, "That son of a bitch!" One officer muttered, "How the fuck did he get away?"

Three blocks away, Timmy and the gang slinked away via wish of invisibility. Outside a comic book shop, the magic wore off. "That's all you get fatass," Wanda explained, "This is turning into a nightmare."

"I know," Timmy admitted, looking at his small pink t-shirt and blue sweat pants, stained with asbestos dust, blood, and sweat. They were already small to begin with—he'd gained a few pounds since the show's first cancellation—and now they looked like absolute trash, "I wish I had a change of clothes."

"I'll take care of that, Timothy," Cosmo commented and gave him a sharp tweed jacket, blue collared shirt and black slacks.

Looking at his reflection in the shop window, Timmy growled, "Thanks asshole. Now I look like a real prick."

"You look decent for a change, not like a unsophisticated _barbarian_ , " Cosmo sassed for a change. The two others paused and slowly turned back to him, "Pardon," he clarified.

"Well, alright then. At least I don't look like a complete fairy. Hah! Fairy! I crack myself up," Timmy chuckled with his stomach jelly rolls bouncing as he entered the comic book shop on 25th.


	4. Chapter

Chapter ∏

Inside the comic book store, rows upon rows of comics lined the shelves. In one corner near the back, tabletop games could be found, along with a few tables set up for players to meet weekly and play. The walls were dedicated to _Magic the Gathering_ , to which Timmy was officially banned in Dimmsdale due to his constant whining and throwing objects from losing. Surprisingly, no one died in those rampages, as they did during his _Dungeons and Dragons_ sessions. The shop owner, behind the glass counter full of valuables, knew exactly what to expect when Timmy strolled in. "Oh shit," He muttered and braced himself mentally for the problems about to emerge.

"This is the atmosphere I was looking for," Timmy exclaimed after a long inhale of the store's scent, "Nice and musty!"

"What do you want, Turner?" the owner asked, as nicely as he could, while other patrons willing to purchase ran out in fear. His patience was thin with Timmy after the "D20 Episode"

"I'm just here to look, my man," he leaned up on the glass counter, slightly sagging under his weight, "What's new in your neck of the woods?"

"Not much, to say the least," he leaned under the counter, withdrawing a shiny card, "This is the new foil we got yesterday. What about yourself? You're looking a bit nice today."

Cosmo, disguised as a green rat, smiled happily to Timmy, who replied with a condescending glare. "Just your average day," He leaned in to inspect the card, "Not bad, I think I have one a bit better," He never lowered his arrogance to admit that something seemed better than his own.

* * *

"If we could only find that fat fuck," Trixie sneered at Crocker, "I know there was an explosion on this side of town, Turner couldn't have run very far," The two scoured the streets brandishing Chinese Kalashnikovs, hunting for their portly target. Considering the neighborhood of 25th Avenue, their open-carry neither surprised or frightened anyone.

"Let's just keep following the smoke and firetrucks," Crocker growled, "He must be around her somewhere," he hunched his arched back peering into shop windows.

"What does Turner like? Maybe we can narrow this down to specific shops."

"Let's see, comic books, Japanese pop culture, board games, and…" He rubbed his chin in thought.

"Holy shit, how do you know all of this? I didn't know that and _I was his friend_."

"Well, I was his teacher."

"Ten years ago."

"I have a strong memory," he stammered, "It's not like I know all of his social media and lurk or something. I'm not fucking crazy!" He wiped sweat off his brow.

"So Turner's a nerd. Let's find some nerdy places for him to go."

"That maid café is just up the road. Plus they have awesome bubble tea, we can pick up some."

"Keep your mind on the task, Crocker."

"I get so lonely now," The two strolled up the sidewalk when they saw a large man bent over a counter in a shop window. Trixie slowed her pace to a stop.

"Hold it," she grabbed Crocker by the back collar. The two peered into the window, noticing the large gentleman in a tweed jacket examining cards; first looking at them on the table, then bringing them up to the light, then back down to the table to examine with what seemed like a jeweler's loupe. It took a moment to realize the mangled small trilby on the man's head; pink like Turner, "Son of a bitch, there he is," Vickie pulled Crocker back out of view.

"How are we gonna do this?" Crocker asked while Trixie checked her magazine nervously, "Doesn't Tootie want him alive? She's a smart and independent woman."

"Of course she does. But if we don't act now, who knows when he'll get away. Plus, she took out a fucking city block with a SCUD," she grinned for the first time all day, "Don't you want him dead too?"

Thinking for a moment, he replied, "Alright. But remember those fairies."

"How could I miss the green and pink animals?"

* * *

"It's not as high-quality as your price lends it to be," Timmy scoffed, handing the card back.

"C'mon, I've got to make a profit. Besides, when's the last time you saw one like this?" The owner defended.

Unwilling to accept the truth, he puffed himself up, "I've seen cheaper online."

"Shipping and handling, bud. Remember the shipping and handling."

He leaned down to Cosmo and Wanda, "They always get me on the shipping and handling."

"Why are you talking to those pink and green rats down there? Come to think of it, you've always got animals with you. Pink and green animals," The store owner began to fit the pieces together, "You paint your animals pink and green? Why?"

"Aw shit," Timmy scowled, "Busted again."

"I'm getting too fucking old for this shit," Wanda answered.

"Did that thing just talk?" The owner felt less surprised and more puzzled, "What the fuck is going on around here?"

At that moment, Crocker and Trixie burst into the building through the plate-glass window. Rather than shoot in and crash through the cracks, the two thought it would be better to just run headlong into it, then tuck in and bash the glass open with their shoulders. Timmy's haggling distracted the owner from the thuds of their two previous tries. The third attempt caused the two much more pain than necessary. They tumbled into the shop, shards flying everywhere, and rolled on the floor, knocking over two heavy shelves with their bodies.

"There's a fucking door for a reason you assholes!" The owner shouted, visibly upset, "I got that damn thing replaced last week!"

"Fuck, why didn't we shoot the glass first?" Crocker said, rolling onto his other side, curled in a ball on the store floor, " _Fuck that hurt_."

Trixie fared little better, "Next time, we're kicking it in instead," she stood up and pulled Crocker from his fetal position, "C'mon, up we go," he groaned in pain, "Hey _Turner!_ "

"Not again," The owner gasped as he ducked under the counter for cover.

The two leveled their guns at their hips, "Tootie sends her regards!" And the two emptied their magazines in Timmy's general direction. Hasty shooting led the pair to spend their rounds mainly on the floor, ripping up the good carpet that was installed a few weeks earlier. What did not hit the ground went careening into the walls and shelves so neatly packed with fresh comics and board game boxes.

When the smoke cleared, Crocker noticed Timmy missing, "Fuck, he's taken cover," he screamed, throwing his empty magazine across the room, " _Take cover!_ " A shotgun blast blew Crocker's right leg effectively off, with him stumbling to the ground.

Trixie dived behind the toppled shelves, reloading her rifle with panic. She knew that she must have hit Timmy at least once in the volley, "Can you still shoot?" She asked Crocker, who crawled behind another shelf.

He slammed a magazine into his gun, then proceeded to extend his hands from cover and shoot blindly into the store, "

Surprised by his resilience, Vickie grinned again and emerged from her cover to shoot more rounds at Timmy.

Meanwhile, behind a pleasing corner to the restrooms, Timmy held his position, "Did you see that shot?!" He exclaimed to Cosmo and Wanda, "I can't believe that spread!"

"You're gonna need something better for this fucking range than that," Wanda eloquently stated.

"True," He examined his shotgun,then tossed it behind him, causing it to slam-fire as it hit the ground, destroying the glass case containing the rarest _Magic the Gathering_ cards. He could hear distant obscenities being strewn his way from behind the counter. "I wish I had an assault rifle." The two fairies obliged, tossing an HK-33 on his head, "Watch the hat!" He shouted.

"Fuck your fucking fedora," Wanda screamed, "Get us the fuck out of here!"

"Hey! It's a _trilby_ , thank you very much."

" _Shaddap!_ "

Timmy began to exchange fire once again. This time, aiming at Crocker's general direction. Somehow, he managed to hit his gun hand, creating bloodcurdling screams across the store. "I think I got one," Timmy replied with enthusiasm to the fairies.

Crocker hid as much as he could behind his cover. His hands were riddled with bullets, hardly useful anymore. Bleeding out quickly, he finally came to the greatest realization in his entire life, "Trixie," He cried, "I'm not going to make it!"

"What the fuck are you talking about, I need you here to help me!" She responded, exacerbated.

"I've come to the conclusion now, it all makes sense," he began, "I came onto this mission because I wanted the fairies, I wanted them to be proven to the world. But that's not the real reason," Tears swelled in both their eyes, "I came because I wanted to be _wanted_. I've been lonely all my life, all I want was friends. And now I have them." He tossed his empty rifle back, useless to his hand injuries, "But I need to make it up to you, for accepting me," From his pocket, he withdrew a high-explosive grenade.

"Don't do it!" Trixie screamed in horror, "You'll be exposed!"

With a bizarre and uncharacteristic swagger, Crocker replied, calmly, "I always wanted to die a hero," With all his strength, he propped himself up against the shelf, pulled the pin on the grenade, then swung his body in the open for a better throw, " _Turner!_ " He shouted, " _Your fairies can go fuck themselves!_ "

At that moment, Timmy shot Crocker three times in the gut, causing him to drop his grenade in front of him.

" _Crocker, you fucking moron!_ " were the last words heard out of Trixie before she and Crocker took the full-blast of the grenade, rocketing pieces of their bodies across the store and into the street. For a second, the entire store went completely white with the explosion.

The smoke cleared; blood, organ, and soot all painted the walls of the store. Timmy emerged from his cover and laughed, "Serves them right for messing with _this_ gentleman!"

From his shelter under the counter, the owner surveyed the damage while brushing broken glass off of his shoulders, "No, no, no!" He pleaded when examining the store, with anger rising, " _Turner!_ " he shook with sheer, unadulterated rage.

"Yes?"

He pointed to the door, " _Get the fuck out of my store!_ "

Timmy obliged, muttering under his breath and sulking out the front door. He knew that he would not have a chance at getting those foils if he murdered the shop owner. He did enough damage anyway, Timmy planned to complain on his favorite subreddit about it later that evening.


End file.
